


Under the Cowl

by Lilyputiann



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is Dead, Casssandra Cain Is Batman, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 11:17:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15141902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilyputiann/pseuds/Lilyputiann
Summary: Cassandra mourns her father, and she finds she must cope by dawning the cowl he was killed in.





	Under the Cowl

Bruce Wayne was a famous, yet sometimes aggravating figure to many. He was a billionaire to some. A playboy, business man, and responsible parent.

Batman was an important figure to all. An ally, teammate, brother, and idol.

The real Bruce Wayne was loved. He was a son, a brother, a friend, and a father.

That's who Bruce Wayne was to his children; biological and not. He loved them with a silent heart, one that hid behind closed doors but was able to glisten through the cracks. Enough to show his children he cared.

Even if some of them wouldn't admit their reciprocation of the feeling, they did the same as Bruce: showed their care in small, silent ways. They were his kids, after all. However, there was always one child that doubted their placement in the family. That was Cassandra. She felt small compared to her brothers.

Dick was the first; he's fast, lethal, trained, yet he had a heart made from passion, love, and gold. He knew his limits, obeyed Batman's laws, and had grown up to be the man Bruce Wayne had always pictured in the back of his head.

Jason Todd was a miracle; he rose from the dead, threw enemies around as if they were rag dolls, and returned to the manor friendly and controlled.

Tim Drake was the smarts; he was able to figure out Bruce Wayne's identity. He was able to deduce who  _Dick Grayson_ was when he wore the Robin mask. He dawned the face of Robin the best out of all five so far, having the greatest track record between the children. He never killed, was able to abide by his father's laws, and he was good at everything that Cassie wasn't.

Finally, Damian Wayne; he may be a brat, the most impulsive, irritating, and  _obnoxious_ little weasel, but he had one thing no one else had. 

_Bruce Wayne's DNA._

Cassie didn't have that. Cassie was none of those things. She didn't speak much, and when she could her family found it aggravating because of the little context she laid out for them. Damian hated her with the depths of his soul. She killed a man when she was young-- a man who had done nothing to her. She was never around the manor. She had spent all her time in  _Hong Kong,_ where her father had sent her.

 _"Why do you think he sent you to Hong Kong?"_ Damian had quizzed. She knew what he meant.  _Bruce wanted nothing to do with her._ She was the only daughter. A weak, quiet, disobedient, mopey,  _burdening_ daughter. Batman wanted rid of her.

 

Then why is it that Cassandra now wears the cowl that her father was killed in?

It didn't belong to her- it never had, and she never expected that it would. It was big and sticky, yet she found it comforting. It still smelled like him. Like her father.

Bruce had stated in his will that he wanted Cassandra to be the one that protected the citizens of Gotham, the one who was to fight off the Joker and his goons, and the one who would watch over the city in the shadows.

Because Dick was his first choice, yet he was content as Nightwing.

Because Jason was his second choice, but he wanted nothing to do with the suit and the burden of another Robin's death.

Because Tim was his third, yet he had never dreamed of becoming the Bat.

Because Damian was too young. So young that he shouldn't even be on the streets as a sidekick.

So it fell on Cassandra, who was now hated by Damian Wayne, the real son of Batman, and was left to sit on the roof of Gotham's local theater and stare down the cars below. 

The air around was cold. It bit at Cassandra's lips where the cowl didn't cover, and froze up her legs that dangled off the side of the building. An aroma of popcorn floated in the dark sky, most likely emitting from the kitchen below.

She felt empty and alone, sitting there in the dark. She wanted to yell at the dark crows flying by, kick the glaring street lights, and cry so she could join Gotham's cruel noise. But Waynes didn't cry, and neither did Cains. So she sat there, containing the tears and the anguish while she thought about the only person who really seemed to love her. But that only person was a dead man.

She wasn't at all bothered when the popcorn's smell was cut out by a familiar cologne, and the traffic that blared through the night was interrupted by the soft landing of feet from behind her.

Cassandra didn't have to turn around, because she already knew who it was.

"Cass," Dick spoke, settling down to sit beside her. She didn't look at him, ashamed of what she must look like at the moment. "What are you doing out here?"

His Nightwing costume shone in her peripheral, so she turned her head away. "Nothing... nothing."

Dick sunk onto his back, splaying himself against the roof in an attempt to get more comfortable. "You know you can talk to me, don't you?"

Cassandra hesitated, looking up to the starless sky. She knew she could talk to him, she did. She just didn't  _want_ to. That wasn't a concept Dick was good at understanding; persistence often clouded his judgement. 

"I know you're quiet, but that means you're head's gonna overload with all of your problems," Dick raised a fist, knocking it gently against her skull. Cassandra huffed, making no attempt to slap his hand away. "Please, talk to me."

"Kori has made you  _soft,"_ Cassandra responded, and she was taken aback by the rough edge to her voice, almost as if she hadn't practiced using it in the past two years. How long had she refrained from speaking?

"I wouldn't have it any other way... she helped me understand you, didn't she?"

"It's just..." Cass swallowed, finding it hard to speak her thoughts. She gestured to her costume, running her hands along the skin-tight material sticking to her arms. "This."

"Being Batman?" Dick was suddenly sitting up again, earning a quick look from Cassandra. "I was Batman for a week, you know."

She blinked in surprise. "Really?"

"Mhm," her eldest brother hummed. "Bruce had some sort of virus. His lungs were swelling up and his bones were sore. Something like that. And he gave  _me_ the cowl. And you know me, I didn't want it." Cassandra nodded along. "But you know what I found so...  _amazing_ about it? People were looking up to me, calling for me in times of doubt and trouble. Being the Batman is more than just wearing some silly costume," Dick laughed.

"I'm afraid... being an idol."

"It isn't about that, not at all. It's about being your own hero. Not just to beat up villains and the like, not what people  _assume_ being a hero is." Dick's face was graced with a smile. "It's about being a beacon of hope and care. It's about doing what you can," he paused for a moment, and then Cassandra felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder. "And in some cases,  _more_ than you can. That's what being a hero is, and what it always has been." 

Cassandra leaned forward, pulling her legs into her chest, watching the soft wind carry her cape. She stayed mute, waiting for him to continue.

"You're already a hero, Cassandra. You're just wearing a different suit."

The young woman looked up at Dick, truly looked at him, for the first time that night. For the first time in what felt like weeks, because she's been barricading herself behind her bedroom door. The one man that she felt may have held at least a little  _hope_ and  _love_ for her was gone. She deserved the quiet. "But... m'not Batman... I-"

"Killed a man when you were, what, five?" Nightwing smiled sadly, moving his arm to hug tight around both her shoulders. "You didn't know any better. And what did you feel after you did it?"

Cassandra gulped, leaning into his touch. "Guilt."

"Monsters don't feel  _guilt,_ Cass. We don't care if you made a mistake, you were young, and you had no clue what you were doing." The older man shook her shoulders. "The family  _loves you,_ Cass. We know you can do this. Even _Damian_ knows you're perfect for this role, even if he doesn't show it."

Cassandra looked away. She couldn't feel that hope again, that feeling that maybe, just  _maybe_ the youngest liked her. Because what if he didn't?  _What if it was a lie?_ Every time she even gets close to thinking that he felt anything positive toward her, he always let her down. But something about Dick's sincerity made her hope. It made her hope that she fit in. "Does he?"

"Did you know you're his favorite?" Dick laughed again, pulling her in closer. She didn't mind too much. "He likes you because you're quiet."

And for the first time in a long time, Cassandra laughed with him.

 


End file.
